


freedom of a thousand doves

by vulcanistics



Category: Football RPF, German NT RPF
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Character Death, Future Fic, Kid Fic, M/M, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-18
Packaged: 2018-03-12 09:07:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3351071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vulcanistics/pseuds/vulcanistics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Louis writes about love.</p><p>  <span class="small">(+ a fanmix)</span></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. the fic

**Author's Note:**

> \- well, i missed the deadline but it's still valentine's day, so here's my entry for the schweinski valentine's challenge. it's a mess.  
> \- written for [prompt no. 2](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Schweinski20140214/profile)  
> \- i suck at summaries  
> \- title is taken from 'paint my love' by mltr  
> \- farrah, thank you for helping me with this fic :)  
> \- important: i will probably be locking this fic some day.  
> \- inspired by [this](http://normalplaces.tumblr.com/post/104626729314/poldicia3-louis-podolski-and-one-of-the-klose), [this](http://normalplaces.tumblr.com/post/102082440234), and [this](http://normalplaces.tumblr.com/post/91842224509/pppper-little-klose-little-poldi)
> 
>  
> 
> **disclaimer: this is pure fiction dealing with fictional representations of real people. none of the events described here happened. i don't own lukas, basti, louis, miro, noah, luan and all the others who feature in this ~~(except natalia, she's original.)~~**

~

Louis takes the beer bottle Noah Klose gives him and immediately raises it to his lips. Noah is honestly a blessing. Noah’s stash of alcohol is an even bigger blessing. He wants to get drunk, he really fucking needs to get drunk. He knows Noah's eyes are on him and he feels the bed dip as Noah sits down. Sparing a glance at him, Louis notices the Bayern Munich jersey which his best friend is wearing, is from last season. It’s the jersey Louis decorated with hearts and stars to symbolise Noah’s burning love for his club.

“Poldi, what's going on?” Noah uses his nickname and it hurts. Louis closes his eyes to stop himself from crying.

He leans on Noah's shoulder, mumbling, "I'm a fucking mess."

Noah wraps his arm around the nineteen year old, pulling him closer. Louis settles against Noah and scrunches up his nose, "You kind of stink."

Louis smiles as Noah lightly smacks him on his head in reproach. The beer flows down his throat, warming him from inside, and he thinks of his father. He whispers a quiet apology as he takes another swig of beer.

~

The bottle in Louis hand is nearly empty. There’s a pleasant lightness coursing through him because of the alcohol and it makes him giggle. Noah laughs and gently runs his fingers through Louis' hair, "Do you want to talk now?"

Louis groans at Noah's words. His eyes are still teary but his emotional distress has faded away under the influence of alcohol. The ache in his heart seems to have toned down in intensity. He’s tired and wants to sleep but Noah needs to read his work.

"Go read", Louis says,  making a vague sweeping gesture in the direction where he thinks he left his laptop.

~

“What should I read?” Noah asks as the laptop, resting on his thighs, slowly starts coming to life. He puts his arm around Louis, holding him close.  Louis is leaning against him, eyes fixed on the laptop screen. Pointing to a document on the screen, he mutters, “My assignment for my writing class. Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day.”

Noah frowns at Louis’ words and begins reading.

**  
**  


~

* * *

 

# What Is Love

Louis Podolski

“Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonour others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.”

You’re five years old and your godfather is reading to you from the Bible. Bastian’s voice doesn’t waver as he reads the lines from 1 Corinthians 13 — love love _lov_ e. You can hear muffled yelling from your parents’ room, they’re trying to be quiet but the words somehow still slip into your room. The words ‘Bastian’ and ‘Sarah’ drifts into your room and you turn to look up at your godfather. Bastian becomes very still and you notice the way his grip tightens on the Bible. He’s heard the names.

You feel an emptiness in your stomach, an emptiness you can’t explain. Your parents are still arguing and you cling to Bastian’s shirt. You fall asleep on your godfather. You don’t want to hear your parents’ anger. _Love is not easily angered._ You think that maybe the Bible is wrong. Maybe God is wrong. Your parents love each other, you’re sure of this. They love each other and yet they fight. You are only five years old and you don’t understand it.

Love is not sharp words that are punctuated with glares. It is not cold silences that stretch for hours. It is not your parents arguing while you are sleeping in your room. Love is infectious laughter that makes your sides hurt. It is cheeky smiles and bright twinkling eyes. It is when Bastian visits. It is Bastian holding you, while your parents’ marriage crumbles unnoticed around you.

* * *

Love is the sound of the crowd when Mario slides the ball in past the Argentine goalkeeper. It’s deafening and it sends a chill down your spine. It’s the most wonderful sound you’ve ever heard. The stadium is alive — vibrant and joyous, dismayed and determined. Germany is leading, Argentina is one goal down. You see Bastian fall to the ground and then there’s blood. You stare in horror as the red blood flows down Bastian’s face. Your clenched fists are on your lap and you tell yourself to breathe. Your mother makes the sign of the cross and says, “Lord, protect him.” She’s _praying_ for Bastian.

You turn to look at her. You are so young and you’ve seen the way your mother sometimes looks at Bastian — the tightening of her lips, the sad eyes. The fact that you are a Dortmund supporter isn’t the only reason you don’t wear the Bayern Munich jersey Basti sent you. The first time you wore it, Monika stared at you and turned away. You still saw the shimmer of tears in her eyes, maybe your mother doesn’t like Bastian. The thought made your little, pure heart hurt but you love her and you don’t wear it again. But now, you’re in Brazil and Bastian is bleeding — your mother is praying for him.

It’s the wrong time to ask her but you whisper quietly, “Mama, I thought, you didn’t like Uncle Basti?”

Monika Podolski hears you over the noise. There are people screaming, crying, laughing, yelling around the two of you and - your mother still hears you. She looks startled at your words but she smiles weakly and says, “I do like Bastian but your father loves Bastian and that’s where we have a problem.”

You don’t understand what she means but she doesn’t say anything more. With a sad smile on her face, she gently smoothens your hair. You turn your attention back to the game. Messi kicks the ball and it flies over the goal post; your heart is in your mouth. It’s close and then, when the referee blows his whistle, you shout. Germany wins the 2014 World Cup and you think that this must be love. There’s an overwhelming feeling of pride and joy sweeping through the stadium. Tears streaming down delighted faces, people clumsily dialing phone numbers, dancing and singing, eyes turned towards the sky, quiet prayers — that’s love. Your father takes you into his arms and you smile broadly at him. He’s done it, they have done it — _Weltmeister_. You see all the other players’ with their wives and girlfriends and you look towards the stands. Your mother didn’t come down with you.

Bastian bends down to talk to you. His eyes are shining with the light of a thousand stars. You want to reach up to touch the cut on his face. Your father’s World Cup medal is in your hands, Bastian glances at it and grins, “You’ll have your own medal someday.”

You look at him wide-eyed. Your heart soars at his words. Love is hope. It’s the promise of bigger things, of louder dreams, of ecstatic celebrations. You see Bastian plant a kiss on your father’s cheek. They’re both smiling and everything is perfect. The air is alive with jubilation and glee. Bastian’s arm is around your father and you think of your mother’s words.  You still don’t understand it but you will eventually.

Noah Klose stops to talk to you, _„Cześć Louis.”_

You nod in greeting and then smile shyly when he tells you that he’s looking forward to playing with you in the national colours of Germany. His fluent Polish tugs at your heartstrings because the language is home to you. The German accent around Polish words is like yours. You’re in Brazil and Noah Klose is talking to you in Polish about playing for Germany — you’re a little bit in love with the moment.

* * *

Your mother’s gone to visit her parents — you and your father drop her off at the airport. Monika smiles and kisses Lukas on his forehead before she leaves. They look happy, they’ve been looking happier recently. The tension of the past few years seems to have dissipated. Bastian comes to visit. He lifts you up and swings you in the air, telling you he’s missed you and wants to spend the weekend with you. He glances at your father while he’s talking to you and you just know that he’s actually speaking to your father. You don’t mind it though — Bastian makes Lukas happy.

You wake up on Saturday, they’ve let you sleep longer than normal. You stand at the bottom of the stairs and watch your father and Bastian. Your father is cooking while Bastian’s leaning against the kitchen counter. They don’t see you and you stand there and just watch them. They’re joking and talking and the house seems like it’s buzzing with warmth and happiness. Love is being yourself. It’s ridiculous jokes and comfortable easy and dorky faces. It’s Bastian sticking out his tongue when Lukas admonishes him for stealing from the pan. It’s Bastian casually leaning forward to kiss your father.

“Oh.”

You didn’t mean to say anything. The spoon in Lukas’ hand clatters to the floor. They stare at you in surprise and alarm. You turn around and head back into your room. You remember what your mother said to you during the 2014 World Cup. You finally understand her words. Lukas comes into your room and sits next to you. Neither of you say anything for awhile. You know your father is thinking of the right words to say and you wait for him.

“Louis, I’m sorry. I - we, should have told you earlier but we kept putting it off, too afraid of what you’d say. Your Mama and I, we’re not going to be together any more.”

You think of Connor in your class. His parents are divorced and he never gets to see his father. Your parents are going to get a divorce. You climb onto your father and throw your arms around him, “Please don’t leave me Papa.”

“I’m not going to leave you ever,” the words fall from his mouth and they’re genuine and true. He runs his hand up and down your back, calming you down. His voice is soft when he says, “Louis, love is love. There’s no proper way to define love, there’s no proper way to fall in love. Sometimes, it sneaks up on you… you wake up in the middle of the night because you’ve suddenly realised you’re in love with your best friend. Sometimes, it lies dormant, beneath the surface of your skin, waiting for you to open your eyes and your heart. Louis, I loved your mother but— ”

You stop him from saying anything more because you can see how nervous he is, how terrified he is. You’re eight years old, the Euros are next month and you know your father is in love _with_ Bastian. There’s a voice inside you that whispers, telling you that perhaps you’ve always known. “Papa, I love you. I love Bastian. You love Bastian. It’s okay.”

The tension rushes out of your father’s body and he holds you tighter. His shoulders tremble in relief. His lips are pressed against your forehead as he mumbles a thank you. You glance at the door and there’s Bastian, hovering nervously outside. He sees you look at him and the corner of his lips turn up into a smile. You watch him for a minute, trying to understand what this means for you and your family. You think of the way your father smiles when he’s around Bastian — everything is going to be fine. You’re eight years old, you’re allowed to be optimistic, “Onkel Basti, come inside.”

Love is when Bastian climbs onto your bed and pulls you in for a hug. It’s when the three of you, awkwardly try to fit in your bed - the bed is too big for two fully-grown adult males and one eight-year-old. Love is when you cuddle up between your father and Bastian, and somehow the bed doesn’t seem too small for any of you. Bastian’s fingers are intertwined with your father’s and you smile. Your father loves Bastian and that is okay.

* * *

Love is taking risks and stepping into the unknown. It’s about holding each other’s hand under the table and smiling brightly at the waiting journalists. It’s you and your mother watching the telecast of the press conference. Your mother is smiling and she’s proud. You think of how far your family has come since the day your parents met as teenagers. The meaning of family has transformed and reshaped over the years. Monika is proud of the step her ex-husband and his boyfriend are about to take. It’s audacious - it’s Lukas and Bastian.

A silence descends when Lukas adjusts the mike. Pens, notebooks, laptops, cameras, journalists wait for the press conference to begin. The journalists notice the twinkle in the eyes of the two men in front of them - it’s obvious that they’re planning something big.

Love is when Lukas kisses Bastian in front of the stunned journalists. Love is when the room erupts into shouts of joy, shock and disbelief - it’s pandemonium of sound and emotion. Love is when Lukas and Bastian break apart and Lukas says, “Do we need to say anything more?”

You are ten years old and your father has just revealed his relationship with Bastian to the _world_.

Love is the many calls Monika receives after the explosive press conference. She laughs at the people who are indignant on her behalf. She shakes her head and tells them that she knows about Lukas and Bastian, and she’s so happy for them. She rolls her eyes when she reminds people about her divorce  - there’s a reason, a long list of reasons, why she’s no longer married to Lukas. She still loves Lukas, loves him the way she has always loved him — platonic soul mates. To the people who talk about how terrible this is for you, she’s cold and her words are sharp. “You’re wrong.”

Your parents come home after the press conference. Somewhere along the way, Bastian has shifted from being a godparent to a parent. Lukas and Bastian walk in together and they look radiant. Lukas kisses Monika on the cheek as she throws her arms around the two of them, “I’m so fucking proud of you.”

Bastian pretends to look horrified, winking at you over your mother’s shoulder, he says, “Moni, mind your language. There are kids present here.”

When your mother turns to you and tells you that she doesn’t want to hear you using foul language, you nod and hide a smirk.

Love is the support pouring in from all directions — players, coaches, managers, teams, world leaders. Lukas and Bastian’s clubs come out in support of them. It’s amazing and insane. Everything’s going to be alright. The phone rings for what seems the billionth time and Lukas answers it with a smile. He starts laughing and rapidly talking in Polish and something tells you that it’s Uncle Miro calling. Bastian sitting next to him and you can hear him grumbling about how he can’t understand a word. Lukas rolls his eyes and playfully flicks Bastian’s ear. Bastian had tried to learn Polish but had never quite managed to go beyond few basic phrases and swear words. Miro switches to German when Lukas hands the phone to Bastian. Miro’s one of the few who knew about their relationship and he’s ridiculously proud of how brave they’ve been.

Amidst the show of support, there’s the hate — hate which your family brushes off. Cutting words, snide remarks, silent disapproval drown under the congratulatory text messages, the social media posts, the encouraging interviews. It’s love in it’s purest collective form.

* * *

You’re twelve years old when Lukas and Bastian get married. Love is the bright smiles on Lukas and Bastian’s face as they walked down the aisle together. It’s your mother barely being able to suppress her excitement. Yes, Lukas and Bastian have already legally registered their marriage but this is their church wedding — they’re husband and husband. Bastian’s your stepfather. Love is when Lukas’ parents  hug the two of them and they’re laughing. You see Bastian’s parents hug Lukas and Bastian and they’re crying tears of happiness. Lukas blushes when they turn to him and say, “You make him happy. Thank you.”

Your father’s hand is on the small of Bastian’s back and when he replies, he’s proud, _delighted_ and confident, “He makes me happy.”

You watch your fathers dance and you have a feeling that tomorrow’s papers will carry the headlines - A Royal Wedding: The Prince Marries The General. You’re young and imaginative but something tells you you’re right about this. Lukas looks so happy as Bastian leans and whispers something into his ears. It’s their party and they’re in their own world. You see present and former Die Mannschaft players, staff, coaches, and different people from your parents’ club career watching the two of them with pleased smiles on their faces. You’ve grown up among these people and they’re family. Love is family.

You’re about to take a bite of your sandwich when you see Soley Boateng making her way through the crowd on the dance floor. She looks determined as she darts through tables till she reaches you, “There’s a football pitch here.”

You don’t need to be told twice. The sandwich is forgotten, darting to your mother, you tell her that you’re going to go play football. It’s only when she looks at you pointedly that you realise you’ve interrupted her conversation. Your cheeks burn with shame as you turn to apologise to the people she was talking to but you stop short in surprise. “Aunt Sarah! Aunt Ana! Hi.”

You know that they’re Bastian ex-girlfriends and they’re here for his wedding. You’re not really sure how the relationships ended or whether they were real but you’ve never bothered to ask your parents.  

Ana ruffles your hair as she smirks, “Go on, I bet you’re itching to go and play.”

You laugh as you turn to leave. You hear Sarah say, “He’s like his fathers.” Her words repeat in your mind as you walk with Soley. If she thinks you’re unusually quiet, she doesn’t mention it.

Noah’s casually dribbling the ball when Soley and you reach the football pitch. It’s a decent pitch, good enough for a fun game of football among the children of footballers. You notice Erik Durm talking to Luan Klose and you smirk, Erik was probably sent to keep a watch on all of you. Erik grins when he sees you, reaching out to ruffle your hair.

_„Chcesz być w mojej drużynie?”_

You jump with a start at the question and look at Noah who’s watching you with uncertain eyes. Noah wants to knows whether you want to be on his team. Yes, yes, of course you want to be on his team because no matter how much you like Luan, you’ve always liked Noah more. Somehow, you’ve also always been able to differentiate between the two of them.

 _„Tak.”_  You nod and Noah’s face lights up. He’s glad you said yes. You hear Luan snickering and turn to glare at him. When Lamia asks Luan what Noah and you are talking about he smiles deviously and looks straight at Noah as he says, _„Flirtować.”_

Noah flushes and your own ears are pink. Luan’s being an idiot. Lamia think so too because she frowns and lightly punches his arm, “I totally know what that means. Thanks for all the help.”

Luan shrugs and holds his hands up in front of him, “I told you what you wanted to know. It’s not my fault you don’t speak Polish.”

When Lamia fouls Luan, she doesn’t look the slightest bit apologetic about it. Lamia meets your gaze and smirks. Luan should have seen that coming. Noah’s team eventually wins 2-0, courtesy of two brilliant strikes from Noah himself. Love is walking back to the party, football tucked under your arm. You’re buzzing from the victory.

* * *

You’re fourteen years old when Natalia kisses you. You blink in surprise at the girl smirking at you. You touch your lips hesitantly and look back at her, “What was that for?” Natalia throws her head back and laughs at your incredulous expression.

Bastian picks that moment to poke his head into the living room, “You two are doing your homework, right?” .

You glare at your stepfather from the couch, he’s beaming in a way that makes you think he knows what just happened. Natalia smiles brightly, “Yes, Mr. Podolski-Schweinsteiger, except Louis is being all confused and adorable.”

Bastian groans, “How many times have I told you not to call me, ‘Mr. Podolski-Schweinsteiger’? It’s way too many letters. And besides, you’re dating Louis so there really isn’t any need for any formality. Call me uncle. No, wait, that makes me sound old.”

You roll your eyes at Bastian who looks like he’s trying to come up with an alternative, “Dad, you are old.”

“Your father is going to hear about this,” Bastian feigns offense and waggles a finger in your direction. The corner of his lips are turned upwards and there’s that usual amused twinkle in his eyes. Bastian runs his hand through his hair and it’s something he’s been doing quite regularly. You smile at him fondly because this is your dad, he’s thirty-eight years old and he’s a dork who’s self-conscious about the fact that his grey hair is now turning white. “Dad, I was kidding, you’re not that old.”

Bastian stares at you a surprise, a bright smile spreading on his face, “I kinda want to come there and hug and kiss you but I’m not going to embarrass you in front of your girlfriend.” Love is the wink he sends your way before leaving the room. Love is what keeps you on the coach when you could have been chasing your father. Love is Natalia when she grins at you and you can’t help thinking of a Cheshire cat. Love is when you say that your family is embarrassing and Natalia just rolls her eyes. You’re smitten with this girl.

When she’s getting ready to head back home, she looks at you and smiles, “I kissed you because you’re my boyfriend and we’ve never kissed before. Also, you’re cute when you’re confused.” She’s looking at you like she loves you — you love her too. You love her with all the love your fourteen year old heart can hold. You initiate the kiss this time, pressing your lips against Natalia’s. It’s light and it makes your heart _flutter_ in your chest.

“No making out on the couch.” Lukas’ voice interrupts the moment and you throw your head back in defeat. There’s no escaping your fathers and their ways of embarrassing you. You turn to see your father leaning against the doorframe. Lukas looks way too pleased about the fact that he just caught you kissing Natalia.

You sigh, “Papa, Natalia has to go home now.”

Lukas looks at Natalia and there’s a glint in his eyes, “Natalia, you’re sure you don’t want to stay for dinner? I mean, I could tell you embarrassing stories about Louis.”

You’re glad when Natalia turns the invitation down. Love is when you’re eating dinner and Bastian casually mentions Natalia’s name. You’ve already told them so much about Natalia but everyday you seem to be learning something more about her - and Lukas and Bastian always listen to you. You rant about your day at school and how frustrating some of your subjects are. You describe the goal you scored. Love is sharing and listening.

* * *

Your leg feels like it’s on _fire_ , like it’s being stabbed with a thousand daggers and you scream in pain. You’ve already scored three goals in the U-16 Germany vs France match but now you’re lying on the pitch, screaming in pain. You can’t move. The French teenager who collided with you looks horrified as you’re stretched off the pitch.

It’s your knee. The doctor tells you that you’ve sustained a severe injury to your knee. You glance at Bastian and he’s staring at the doctor, Lukas’ fingers are intertwined with his and you know that they’re both thinking of all the injuries of their past. You’ve watched their videos, you’ve read the articles, you’ve heard the stories and you know what they’ve been through. You are aware of how decisions and injuries affected your Lukas’ career. You know how Bastian’s always pushed himself beyond his breaking point, determined to not give up. He would ignore the pain as much as he could till his body betrayed him. It is what you have now done. You’re going to be out for eleven months. The youth teams of Köln and Germany are going to miss you - you think that maybe you’re going to miss the exhilaration of playing for club and country. You love football with everything you have but there’s a part of you that’s recognised the strain and weight on your shoulders. It’s a long break from football. You hate the small voice in your head that tells you it’s a good thing. You need a break to focus on yourself.  

Lukas says he has to go check on something and then it’s just Bastian and you in the hospital room. Bastian sits next to your bed and he strokes your cheek. You grimace as you feel a spike of pain in your leg and Bastian notices your expression, “Louis, you will get better.”

A torrent of words rest heavily on your tongue. There’s so much you want to say but you don’t let yourself say it - you don’t want to hurt your parents. You’ve been hiding it from your parents. They would be hurt if you told them that you need a break from football, or at least, that’s what you think. Your parents lived for football and it was everything to them. If you told them that their son was grateful to not be able to play football for awhile, they would be upset. Instead of telling Bastian any of that, you say, “In another eleven months... that’s so far away, Dad.”

“I know, but look at this way, we can have family time and do family things together.”

“Yeah, it’s not like we don’t already do family things together,” you’re being sarcastic but at the same time, you love your family. Love is how committed your family is to spending time with one another. It’s teasing comments and amused statements. It’s long family discussions and crazy family dinners. Bastian knows you’re being sarcastic and he knows that you love your family and so, he just laughs at your words.

Lukas enters the room with a tub of ice-cream in his arms and you and Bastian glance at each other before dissolving into a fit of giggles. Lukas’ ignores the two of you and places the ice-cream in front of you and leans down to lightly kiss Bastian. Bastian points to the ice-cream tub and raises an eyebrow in amusement, “Aren’t you going to explain that?”

Your father shrugs as he hands you and Bastian a spoon, “Okay, I’ll admit it, this doesn’t really fit into any of our diet plans but it’s ice-cream and ice-cream is always good. Plus, it’s vanilla. I just thought that… since we’re all sad and kinda worried, it might be nice to share some ice-cream.”

Bastian looks up at Lukas with an expression that melts your heart because it’s so genuine and full of love. Love is your parents still being crazy in love. Love is the way in which so many years have passed but nothing seems to have changed for them. They were young fiery souls lighting up the pitch, overcoming obstacles and winning hearts. Somewhere along the way, they fell in love and that love stayed with them through the years — it just became _stronger_.

* * *

Natalia drags you to go see a movie. You’re not that interested in it but this is Natalia and she’s your friend. She’s no longer your girlfriend but you’re still going to treat her with affection. You’re genuinely glad about the fact that Natalia is still such an important part of your life because you do love her. You don’t love her romantically, but your love for her is built on a solid foundation of friendship. _Friendship_ is love and so you agree to go watch the movie with her.

An hour into the movie, Natalia turns to you and her face is illuminated by the glow of the screen. You raise an eyebrow because Natalia is not the type of person who talks during movies. She’s always focused on the movie and the moment she’s out of their theatre, she’d discuss and dissect the movie. This was new behaviour from her.

Natalia glances briefly at the screen and then looks back at you, “Louis, you should tell your parents.”

You know exactly what she’s talking about and you sink back into your seat. Natalia has always had this uncanny ability of telling you exactly what you wanted to hear. Except this time, this isn’t what you wanted to hear. You share a lot of your thoughts and feelings with your parents but you haven’t told them this.. You can’t tell your parents you want to quit football, they’d be really disappointed. You know they expect to see great things from you, the whole country expects incredible things from you - you are Lukas Podolski’s son, you are Bastian Schweinsteiger’s stepson. You’re supposed to be a blend of their skill, talent, fortitude — you’re restless in your own skin and you don’t want to play professionally. You’re a teeanger struggling to find your own feet in the world and you don’t know what you want to do. Natalia squeezes your shoulder affectionately, “It’s eating you up from the inside. You have to talk to them.”

You’re eating dinner with your family and mulling over Natalia’s words. She’s right, she’s always right. You glance at your parents and you know you’re going to hurt them. Bastian’s glasses are perched on his nose and he’s listening to Lukas talk about the kids he’s training. They look happy. You feel a lump in your throat.

“I don’t want to be a footballer.”

You watch as your parents turn to look at you and the range of emotions on their face makes you feel sick - surprise, astonishment, bewilderment. Tears sting your eyes and you hastily get up from the table because no, you can’t deal with this. Lukas calls after you as you run up the stairs and into the comfort of your own room. You don’t listen to him and Lukas and Bastian don’t follow you. Your phone’s lying on your desk and you need to talk to someone, you need to talk to Natalia. You scroll through your contact list until you find Natalia’s name. Tears blur your vision and you don’t realise you’ve called the wrong number until you hear Noah say, “Louis? Is everything okay? Are you crying?”

You’ve accidentally called up Noah. You think of cutting the call but Noah would probably call back and so, you sink down onto the floor and breathe out. You’re going to have to talk to Noah. The tears have travelled down your face but you’re no longer crying.

You glance at your posters of the German National Team, your eyes lingering on the one from 2014, “I told my parents I want to quit football.”

“Hang on.” The beats of electronic dance music coming through the phone fade away when you hear the sound of what you think is a door closing.

“Noah, are you at a party?”

“Yeah but I’ve now hidden myself in a bathroom,” he laughs in amusement and you can’t help but smile. “Louis, you don’t want to be a footballer?”

He sounds so concerned, so worried and you tell him everything’s that bothering you. You tell him about how your knee is a huge cause of concern for you, you talk about the expectations riding on you, you tell him that you are not your parents — you love football but it’s not your life. Noah listens patiently, without saying a word and you’re struck with the realisation that Noah can’t identify with what you’re saying. He doesn’t feel restless when he’s on the pitch, you do. Noah’s happy playing football, Noah and Luan, they’re both so happy playing football professionally. You feel a spike of _jealousy_ , tinged with self-loathing and you have to close your eyes to stop yourself from crying again.

“What did Lukas and Basti say?”

“I don’t know, I ran out of the room before they could react but they’re probably going to be pissed.”

“No, no, no,” Noah sounds so sure of himself and you can just picture him shaking his head with a frown, “They love you too much to be angry about this. Go talk to them, they’ll understand.”

“Will Köln understand? Will Germany understand? Noah, everyone expects me to make the National team when I’m old enough. Lukas and Bastian want to see me win trophies with the national team. Everyone wants to see another Podolski on the pitch. People want to see whether Louis Podolski will match up to the legacy of his father and stepfather. I don’t want that, I don’t want to be compared to them. I don’t think I can deal with the pressure of having to be the type of player my parents were because they were legendary… they are legendary. And it’s really fucking complicated.”

"I’m a midfielder, Luan’s a striker and we’re Miroslav Klose’s kids. They’re already saying we don’t match up to the greatness of our father. We’re nineteen, Louis, nineteen. The pressure is immense and sometimes, there are days when I wish I hadn’t followed my father to the football pitch. But, I can’t imagine myself not playing football. I can’t.”

He pauses to let you take in his words. They’re honest and sincere. Noah’s telling you about himself. “And the thing is, Papa wouldn’t mind if we weren’t footballers. He justs wants us to be happy. Lukas and Basti love you with everything they have. Your mum loves you. They wouldn’t want you to be sad. They want you to make the national team and win trophies because they think that’s what you want.”

“You’re saying I shouldn’t quit?”

Noah’s sighs and his voice softens, “Louis, I’m saying you should do what’s right for yourself. I love football too much to give it up. What do you love?”

“What do I love? I don’t know what I love. I love too many things with various degrees of love and it all sucks.”

Noah lets out a breathy laugh, “Okay, why don’t you just start listing things?”

“I love my family, Lukas, Basti, Monika and everybody else. I like reading and writing and learning languages. I love learning language, teaching myself stuff, playing football with my friends and family, you, Natalia, Luan, and the people who I call my friends,”

“There you go. You know have a list of things you love.” Before Noah can say anything more, you hear the sound of muffled knocking through the phone. You easily figure out what’s happening. Noah sounds apologetic when he says, “I’m sorry but I have to go now, apparently one of these idiots desperately needs to use the toilet. Talk to Lukas and Basti. Keep me updated on the situation.”

You smile because Noah is a sweetheart and he was there for you today, “Thank you Noah.”

“It was nothing. Text me later. Take care of yourself, Louis. Bye.”

Minutes after Noah disconnects, you realise that you may have just told Noah that you love him. You do love him, you love him the way you love Natalia and Luan and your friends and your parents. They’ve always been there for you. They love you.  

There’s a quiet knock on your door and Bastian says, “Louis, can we come in?”

You unlock the door, your eyes flicking up to look at their expressions. They smile at you warmly and suddenly, you find yourself in Lukas’ arms. Lukas holds you tightly and strokes your head, “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

You can see Bastian from the periphery of your vision and you manage to choke out a ‘Basti’. You want Bastian in this hug. You want to envelope yourself in the positive love that Lukas and Bastian seem to be radiating. You don’t realise you’re crying until the front of Lukas’ faded Cologne t-shirt is damp from your tears. Lukas makes you sit on the bed and sits next to you, while Bastian squats down on his haunches. Basti lightly drums his fingers on your thigh, “I think we need to talk.”

“Yes.”

Love is your parents listening to you patiently. They listen to you vent and rant. Everything you’ve been keeping bottled up within you spills out. You tell them about your _insecurities_ , your restlessness, your thoughts on football. You talk about your conversations with Natalia and Noah. You don’t want to be a footballer but you don’t know what to do and you’re a lost teenager trying to survive. You say you’re afraid of disappointing them.

Lukas shakes his head and pats your head affectionately, “Out of all the traits to pick up from Bastian, you picked up his tendency to worry too much.”

Bastian rolls his eyes at Lukas’ statement, but he’s smiling warmly, “Louis, we love you. We’re going to be there for you no matter what. You can be whoever you want to be and we’ll still love you. We just want you to be happy.”

Lukas puts his arm around you and lightly kisses your head, “Why didn’t you tell us earlier? Why didn’t we realise that you weren’t very happy sooner? I wish, I wish I had known earlier. Louis, before Basti and I came up here, we were talking about what we wanted to say to you. And we’re sorry, we didn’t notice all this before. We’re not going to push you to continue with football, we’re not going to make you do anything. We just want you to tell us if there’s anything bothering you, that’s all we want. We love you and we want you to be happy.”

“And Louis, you’re not a lost teenager. You’re a teenager and you’ve got the whole world at your feet. You’ll figure things out,” states Bastian with a broad grin.

Love is when you realise you’ve been an idiot for such a long time. Love is the relief rushing through you at your parents’ words. Love is the belief your parents have in you. It’s their support and concern. It’s you realising that Noah and Natalia were right, all you had to do was talk to your parents.

* * *

You’re interested in many things and all you want to do is just _live_. You want to live and appreciate everything that happens to you, everything you do. You’re still not sure about your purpose in life but there is something that you really want to do. Your fascination for linguistics, literature and languages is something Lukas has passed on to you. You have the gift of languages and there’s a thirst within you that wants to learn more. You  want to go to Munich to study Languages and Literature. You could go anywhere else in Germany, you could stay in Köln but there’s something about a city that’s across the country that’s calling to you. You don’t really understand why your heart is fixed on the idea of attending university in Munich. Your parents have history with Munich - theirs is a tale of two histories, two lives, two diverging paths.

You tell them you’re interested in going to Munich to study. Lukas’ fingers digs into his thighs and the colour seems to drain from his face. Bastian smiles briefly and then leans over to whisper something into Lukas’ ear. You don’t hear what he says but it seems to have the intended effect on your father, Lukas relaxes and sighs deeply. He looks up at you and he’s beams, “Munich is a beautiful city.”

Bastian looks at you proudly and you know he’s completely okay with your decision. He’s a Bavarian boy, Munich is everything to him. Bastian loves Munich and you know that he wants you to fall in love with it too. You are a Borussia Dortmund fan and that gives Bastian so much grief, you know that he’s hoping you’ll jump teams - that definitely isn’t going to happen. Bastian frowns slightly, “Louis, where will you be staying? I still have my old apartment in case you’re interested. Do you want us to move to Munich or are you sick of your boring, stuffy parents?”

Bastian mock-pouts and you roll your eyes because your parents are still young at heart. You sit down on the couch between the two of them and soak in all the details. You’re going to miss this, you’re going to miss them.

“I haven’t thought that far ahead. I still have to answer my Abitur. I don’t want you to come to Munich and it’s not because I’m sick of the two of you. I don’t want you to come because Papa’s busy training the kids at Köln and Dad, you’re happy here. You’ve built a life here. You’re volunteering at shelters and working with charities and you’re happy here. I don’t want to uproot you. I’ll think about your apartment offer though. Thank you.”

You end up watching a movie with your parents. Maybe you’re imagining it but you think you see Lukas look at you with teary eyes.

Noah phones you up two weeks after you talk to your parents about Munich. He sounds breathless and excited.

“Louis, Louis, Louis, Louis,” he lets out a litany of your name and you smile in amusement. This is going to be explosive.

You respond with smirk, “Noah, Noah, Noah, stop saying my name and get on with it.”

“Bayern Munich wants me!” Noah screams into the phone and you fell like your heart is going to explode. Bayern Munich wants Noah Klose. Noah’s going to Munich, you’re going to Munich — you’re an excited mess of screams and tears and joy.

“I’m so fucking proud of you. God, Noah, Bayern Munich, that’s huge. Luan joined Schalke during the January transfer window and now, you’re heading to Bayern Munich. By the way, where will you be staying? I’m enrolling into a university in Munich and I need a place to stay. I can’t believe he still has it but Bastian offered me his old apartment. Except, I’m hundred and ten percent sure my parents will visit Munich occasionally, just to check in on me. So they’ll probably want the apartment.”

“You’re going to Munich?” Noah sounds like he can’t quite believe what you’re saying and you realise that you’ve not mentioned this to him before. You haven’t told him that you’re planning on moving to Munich for university.

You burst out laughing, “I’m going to Munich, we’re going to Munich.”

Noah freaks out and yells at you for not telling him earlier but you just laugh and roll your eyes. You can hear the shaking excitement in his voice and it makes your head dizzy. This is actually happening. Noah calms down enough to tell you that he hasn’t signed anything as yet but Bayern have been holding talks with his father and they want him. You know what’s going to happen. The moment the transfer window opens, Noah’s going to be signing a contract with Bayern. You’re going to be living with your best friend.

Love is the _giddy_ feeling you get when you tell your parents that Noah’s probably going to Bayern Munich. Bastian smirks and says that he’s amazed they took such a long time to get Noah to Bayern. There’s a pleased twinkle in his eyes and you briefly wonder if Bastian had anything to do with it. You don’t ask him though, you don’t really want to know. You’re going to Munich but you’re not alone.

Love is when you tell your parents that you’re going to be sharing a flat with Noah. Your lips are curved into a smile when you tell them that they can now visit regularly and stay at Bastian’s old apartment. They have the decency to look slightly guilty and you know that is what they were planning to do anyway.

Laughing, you kiss both of them, “I love you.”

Monika come to visit you to help you pack for Munich. You watch her as she stands in front of your closet, surveying the clothes. When she turns around to look at you, you’re startled by the sadness in her eyes.

“Mama?”

“I have to take you shopping.” The words catch in her throat and you instinctively know that your mother is trying not to cry. You wrap your arms around her and kiss the top of her head, you’re already taller than her. Monika runs her hands up and down your back.

“I’m going to miss you. Munich is far away.”

“And you can always come and visit. Use Papa’s money.”

Monika laughs and you look at her fondly. You’re going to miss her. You’re going to miss your fathers. Natalia, you’re going to miss Natalia as well. Natalia had been overjoyed when you told her you were going to Munich. She’d screamed and thrown her arms around you. Her eyes had shone with pride. You’re definitely going to miss her. Love is saying good bye with a smile and a promise to visit often.

* * *

The first few days in Munich were hard. You’re curled up on the couch, watching TV with Noah and you think that is the bravest thing you’ve ever done. Munich is beautiful. It’s big and intense and you start learning the city - you slip into alleys and small shops, you find a café that makes the most amazing hot chocolate, you talk in shaky Bavarian to a few people and you draw a map of the city in your head. You do all this when you have a break from university, when you have no classes, when you’re walking home. You relish in the uniqueness of Munich.

You’re still a kid living in the big city and you’re grateful that you have Noah watching your back. Living with Noah is incredible. You never thought you’d one day share a flat with a friend. You also didn’t think you’d decide to go to Munich for your further studies but, here you are.

Noah comes home after practice, looking like he’s on the edge of ruin and you bark out a laugh, “What happened to you?”

“I’m exhausted, fucking exhausted. Practice was shit today, in case you’re wondering. I want to lie down and never get up again.” He collapses onto the couch, throwing his feet onto your lap. You smile fondly at him because your best friend is such a drama queen.

“It’s worth it though, isn’t it? You’re playing for the club you’ve loved since forever, the pain’s got to be worth it.” Noah opens an eye to look at you and smiles. It’s one of his giddy ridiculous smiles and it warms your heart.

He nods slightly, “It is worth it.”

Noah falls asleep a few minutes later and you watch his chest rise and fall. With a faint smile on your lips, you go back to reading your book. Noah’s your best friend and being around him makes you feel happy, safe and relaxed. You think that maybe you have a crush on him. You tell yourself that it’s a ridiculous silly crush that will fade away except, you’ve been saying that to yourself since you were twelve.

Lukas and Bastian come to visit and you throw your arms around them,causing them to  them stagger a few steps back. Lukas laughs and kisses you on the cheek, while Bastian just flicks your ear affectionately. They survey your apartment, taking in the set up and furnishing. You see their gaze settle on the framed photo of the three of you that you’ve hung on the wall. You’ve framed one of the selfies Lukas took when the three of you went to visit Poland. You’ve decorated the apartment with a lot of family photos and you smile when you see Lukas and Bastian exchange delighted glances.  

You go to watch Bayern Munich vs 1. FC Köln with your parents. They argue about who’s going to win the match right up till the moment the whistle blows and then their attention is on the pitch. During halftime, Bastian lets out a low whistle.

“Noah’s really good.”

For some reason, Bastian’s words make you feel proud and you nod, “I know, he’s brilliant.”

The corner of Lukas’ lips twitch upwards. He leans back in his seat as he asks, “Are you two just friends?”

Lukas’ question makes you blush and it takes every ounce of your self-control to not get up and walk away from your parents. You sigh with resignation, “We’re just friends.”

“That’s what Bastian and I used to say about each other and you know what happened.”

You know very well what happened. The gold bands on your parents’ ring fingers are reminders. But before the rings, there was a road that twisted and turned, with bumps and obstacles along the way. Except, you are not your parents. You mean it when you say Noah and you are just friends because that’s the truth. You may have a crush on him but the two of you are just friends.

Love is your parents teasing you because they apparently see something in the way you talk about Noah. It’s your parents being themselves and delighting in making you blush. It’s Noah hugging Lukas and Bastian when he sees them. It’s when the four of you go out to have dinner together and your fathers glance at you meaningfully. _Love_ is ignoring them and paying attention to Noah describing his goal even though you saw him score it.

* * *

It’s Valentine’s Day and you’re playing video games with Noah. Neither of you have a significant other to spend the day with and therefore, the two of you ended up going to your favourite café for an early dinner. Now, it’s almost 12 a.m. and you’re chilling with your best friend. You nearly fall off the couch when your phone starts ringing. Sighing in frustration, you reach out to answer the call. Your video game character dies on screen, Noah turns to gloat in his triumph but stops when he sees the expression on your face. Your father is in the hospital. _Lukas_ is in the hospital. You’re struggling to breathe properly. It’s an accident, people recover from accidents. It’s going to be okay. You clutch Noah’s arm and blurt out, “Papa’s met with an accident.”

Noah’s eyes widen but he doesn’t ask any questions. He grabs his car keys, his phone, his coat and then the two of you are out of the door. You hear Noah talk to someone over the phone before he gets into the car but you don’t pay attention to him. You can’t pay attention to anything. Your heart is pounding in your chest. Lukas is going to be alright — he has to be alright.

You see Bastian with his head buried in his hands and your step falters. Bastian looks terrible. You realise he’s been treated for the cuts brought on by slivers of glass. You just know that he’s not paying any attention to the pain. He’s been through a lot of this, he’s been beaten and bruised and hurt but this is the worst. His husband may be dying and the pain is probably more than anything he'd experienced before. Bastian looks up at you and the open vulnerability you see in him scares you. Bastian’s always been the _strong_ one. You lean against the wall and close your eyes. You’ve never liked hospitals.

A doctor recognises you and tells you about the accident. An Audi rammed into your parents’ Mercedes. It was a freak accident. An accident that should never have happened. Bastian’s okay but since the car crashed into Lukas’ side, there are some complications. You blink at the word complications because complications can only mean bad things. Your parents’ were coming home from their Valentine’s Day dinner and now Lukas is in the hospital and Bastian looks like he’s going to break any minute. You sink to the floor and cry. Noah sits besides you and soothingly strokes your back.

Miroslav rushes up to Bastian and wraps his arms around your father. You glance at Noah and smile faintly, Noah called his father. Bastian collapses in Miroslav’s arms and you have to look away when he starts sobbing against Miroslav. Luan’s come as well, and he squats down in front of you with an apple in his hand.

“You should eat.”

More people start trickling into the hospital as the news gets out. They come as fast as they can, somehow making it to Munich. You don’t know who hugs you, who squeezes your shoulder in support, who tells you that it’s going to be alright. Everything is a blur of faces accompanied with names, words and actions. You recognise a few though, you recognise them because they wait at the hospital — Philipp Lahm, Sarah Brandner, Thomas Müller, Joachim Löw, Mesut Özil, Miroslav.  Your mother’s in tears when she reaches. She sits next to Bastian and waits with all of you. Natalia sits down in front of you and you’re terribly relieved to have her here. You see Sylwia Klose bend down to whisper to Monika in Polish. Love is all of you waiting to hear from the doctors’. It’s the _solidarity_ and strength that comes from having company.

Bastian steps inside the washroom and you stop washing your hands to look at him. The tap is still running. Bastian looks defeated. He stares at you before dropping his gaze to the ground, “I’m sorry.”

You think about how Bastian was driving the car when the accident took place. His shirt still has a few spots of blood and you feel the anger rise within you. You know you’re being irrational but you push past Bastian and walk out. You’re furious with him. You love Bastian but your father is currently lying unconscious on a hospital bed and it’s Bastian’s fault. It’s useless but you wish they hadn’t gone out for dinner, your father would not have been fighting for his life. Bastian was driving within the speed limit, they were both wearing their seatbelts and someone crashed into them. You can’t blame Bastian but it’s what you do. The anger within you is a juggernaut of hurt, fury, fear and hopelessness.

Lukas Podolski passes away at 5 a.m. on 15th February, the day after Valentine’s Day. You never got to say goodbye.

 

* * *

The RheinEnergieStadion is packed with people and your heart aches to see this outpour of love. People have gathered to pay respect to their prince. This is love. They’ve come to pay their respects. Germany’s lost the the prince who immigrated from Poland and the country weeps. The stadium is quiet as Bastian walks up to read his eulogy for Lukas. You look at your stepfather properly for the first time in days and you notice the weariness in his eyes, he looks tired and _lost_. You see him trembling as he nears the end of the speech and when a tear rolls down from his eyes, you gulp and look towards the sky. Bastian glances up and looks at the stands. Lukas loved this place with every inch of his soul. This was his home.

He smiles slightly when he delivers his last line, “Lukas would have wanted us to keep smiling.”

You collapse into your old bed and sob. Your father is gone, buried under six feet of dirt and mud. You don’t hear Bastian approaching until he clears his throat. You sit up and the anger bubbles up within you when you see him staring at you with sad eyes. You can’t do this. You can’t just sit here. You want to get as far away from Bastian as possible.

The words are out before you can stop them, “I fucking hate you. You’re the reason he died.”

Bastian’s eyes widen in shock and you see the brief flash of hurt in his eyes before it’s gone. Bastian looks empty and emotionless. He stands there and doesn’t say anything as you pack up to go back to Munich. You don’t want to be here anymore.

You turn to look at Bastian before you leave. He doesn’t make any effort to stop you and you’re not sure about how that makes you leave. This is the house you grew up in, it’s rich with memories and now, you’re just leaving it behind.

“Dad, please  I can’t look at you with thinking of Papa. Papa died because of you and I’m never going to be okay with that. I don’t want to talk to you again, I can’t. I just don’t want you in my life anymore. Goodbye, Bastian.”

“Louis, no, wait, I’m sorry. ” Bastian makes a move to reach out to you but you shake your head and then you’re out of the door. The memory of Bastian’s distraught face as you said goodbye to him makes you want to lie down and not wake up for a few hundred years.

* * *

The alcohol burns the back of your throat but you don’t care. Noah’s just told you that Bastian’s accepted a job at Bayern Munich. Your stepfather whose calls and messages you’ve been ignoring for the past few months is in Munich. Bastian’s going to be in the same city as you and the thought makes you sick. You still remember his expression when you walked out through the door. His world had come crashing down around him with Lukas’ death and then you went and _destroyed_ what was left of it. You sometimes wake up in the middle of night and you think of the dismay you saw in his eyes.

You scroll through the messages from Bastian. You never replied to a single one. Bastian didn’t stop though, he continued messaging you, continued telling you things. You could have deleted them but you don’t. You miss Bastian but you’re too stubborn and so you don’t pick up the phone when he rings, you don’t respond to the voice messages he leaves or the text messages he sends. You told Bastian you didn’t want him in your life.  You’re too stubborn to go back on what you said to him.

This isn’t love. This is _pride_ and hurt, creating a blend of helplessness. This is you giving free vent to the anger that was inside you without thinking of the repercussions. Telling your father, you don’t want him in your life is not love. It’s bitterness. Love is not you storming out of the house, leaving your father in tears. Love is not the sharp pain in your chest when you take down the photos of your family from the walls. Love is Noah doing it for you because you start crying when you see a picture from your fathers’ wedding. Love is Bastian refusing to quit.

You think of the day Noah and you ran into Sarah. You had told her that you’re not Bastian Schweinsteiger’s stepson, not anymore. It was in response to Sarah telling Noah he’s got to step up his fashion game since he’s dating  Bastian Schweinsteiger’s stepson. Noah had quickly denied the dating rumour while you denied your relationship to Bastian. Sarah had kissed you and you still remember the sad look in her eyes when she told you that you have always been and will always be Bastian’s son. She’s not wrong. You miss him and you love him. You always will.

Who said that love was fire?  
I know that love is ash.  
It is the thing which remains  
When the fire is spent,  
The holy essence of experience.  
                                          Patience Worth

* * *

~

Noah blinks back tears as he looks down at Louis who’s fallen asleep on him. This poor beautiful soul with sapphire eyes was a gift. Louis was a little star, a storehouse of talent and Noah loved him. He’d written something that was honest and real — rich with stories of emotion and love. Noah pulls out his phone, he doesn’t know how Louis will react to this but he needs to do this. There’s a voice inside of him, telling him to just dial the number and so he does.

“Hello, Bastian.”

~

Louis wakes up and groans. His head is killing him. He’s so focused on willing away the pain that he doesn’t see the man sitting at the foot of his bed for awhile. When he does see him, he stares because there’s no way Bastian’s in his bedroom. He’s dreaming, he has to be dreaming.

Cautiously, Louis whispers, “Dad?”

“Hi, Louis.” Bastian smiles apologetically and Louis flings himself at his father, burying his face in his chest — his father is actually here with him. Louis knows that Noah’s called him here and he knows that Bastian’s read his assignment and he’s glad. He wanted Bastian to read it, he wanted Bastian to know how sorry he was, he wanted his stepfather back in his life. He clutches Bastian’s t-shirt and cries. Love is the catharsis of painful emotions and terrible regrets.

Louis touches the gold band on Bastian’s finger, his father still wears his wedding ring. Bastian kisses Louis on his head and whispers, “I miss him.”

“I miss him too.”

 **  
**~ **  
**

_fin._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> translation:  
> Cześć Louis. = Hello Louis  
> Chcesz być w mojej drużynie? = Do you want to be on my team  
> Tak. = Yes  
> Flirtować. = Flirting


	2. a fanmix

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a mix for a boy who saw love in everything and everyone.

**~**

**[PAINT MY LOVE - michael learns to rock]  
** _it’s the freedom of a thousand doves_  
 _baby you should paint my love_ ****

**[A SKY FULL OF STARS - coldplay]** _'_  
 _cause you’re a sky, cause you’re a sky full of stars_  
 _'cause you light up the path_

 **[AQUAMAN - walk the moon]  
** _so here we go, head first with no regrets_  
 _and no rules, we can stay as long as we want_

 **[POET** **\- bastille]**    
 _i have written you down_  
 _now you will live forever_

 **[I BET MY LIFE - imagine dragons]**    
 _now remember when i told you that’s the last you’ll see of me_  
 _remember when i broke you down to tears_

 **[WHERE THE LINES OVERLAP - paramore]  
** _no one is as lucky as us_  
 _we’re not at the end but oh we already won_

 **[WE COME RUNNING - youngblood hawke]** _  
_ _behind that crooked line_  
 _where you never knew you’d go_

 **[MY LOVE - westlife]** _  
_ _so i say a little prayer_  
 _and hope my dreams will take me there_

**~**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [listen to the mix](http://8tracks.com/normalplaces/freedom-of-a-thousand-doves)

**Author's Note:**

> please do leave me a comment :)  
> you can also find me on [tumblr](http://normalplaces.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/normalplaces/).


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